


a broken mold

by a_secondhand_sorrow



Series: I’ll use you as a warning sign [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Self Harm, Suicide, Zoe has issues but I love her for it, alchohol, also please get her some help, implied eating disorder, more Zoe character studies yeehaw, please take care of yourself, suicidal idealation, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 14:19:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17868881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_secondhand_sorrow/pseuds/a_secondhand_sorrow
Summary: Zoe Murphy didn’t want to die.At least, not in a way that was too obvious.***or: grief is a funny thing





	a broken mold

**Author's Note:**

> title from “idontwanttobeyouanymore” by Billie Eilish 
> 
> please read the tags, don’t trigger yourself if you know it will. 
> 
> anyway I love Zoe Murphy, in case you couldn’t tell yet

Zoe Murphy didn’t want to die.

At least, if anyone asked, that’s what her response would be.

She was happy. She didn’t have time to hate herself, not with jazz band, and her friends, and her three AP classes that she didn’t really want to be taking, and her brother, and her family, of course her family, everyone all bubbly and happy and so worried about Connor, and Connor, and _Connor_ -

She was happy.

She didn’t want to die.

At least, not in a way that was too obvious.

So she couldn’t drag knives across her wrists like she wanted to, letting the sharp metal break skin and blood to bubble up with the pain. But she could dig her fingernails into her palms until they left angry, red welts, savoring the way her mind cleared with the pain, or play guitar until her fingers were bleeding and say it was for the sake of practice, or go all day-or possibly several- without eating and blame it on being busy, or not having money on her to buy lunch, or something other than the truth.

It wasn’t killing herself if she was the only one who knew.

Zoe Murphy didn’t want to die.

But the voice inside her head that stopped her from doing things that would kill her had gone silent. The filter for her intrusive thoughts had jumped ship long ago, making no move to stop her from driving home alone after doing shots at her friends house, or running until her lungs burned, or jumping down the last few stairs on crumbling staircases.

Maybe she didn’t want to die, but once in the dead of night she’d heard a voice whisper _you are meant to die young_ and _there’s nothing keeping you here_ and _death is the only mercy you’ll be granted_ and though the voice never spoke again, the words it had uttered were always there, lingering, waiting.

She didn’t want to die, but she certainly didn’t care enough to live.

But something shifted when she stared down at her brother’s coffin, knowing the same words had flitted through his head, the same filter had broken, the same disregard for safety, the same monotonous droning of _it’s not enough_.

Something broke even more when she realized that he had stopped her from being in that coffin by killing himself, despite his years of threats and violence and anger. Because now she saw the white-knuckled grip of Larry’s hands on his chair, saw Cynthia falling to pieces, heard the distinct murmers of mourners that swept through crowds like a wildfire. Worst of all, she felt the distinct tearing through her chest which wrought the hot anger and the salty tears, felt the silence of her home to her very core.

He’d dragged Zoe back into a realization, sent her plummeting back into the atmosphere, feeling the flames of her ascent as the ground rushed toward her.

Zoe Murphy couldn’t want to die.

**Author's Note:**

> for more sad go check out my writing sideblog @a-secondhand-sorrow or my main @itstrulyastrangerthing for various and sundry (mostly) reblogs and (occasional) content


End file.
